


What's in a Name?

by snowcloud8



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon Timeline, Companionable Snark, Consensual Non-Consent, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mermaids, Mind Rape, Minor Character Death, Monster Hunters, Monster of the Week, One-Sided Attraction, Original Character Death(s), Prostitution, References to Shakespeare, Sea Monsters, Snark and Sarcasm, Time Skips, Time Travel, Timeline What Timeline, Unrequited Love, Wall Chicken (Castlevania), Werewolf Turning, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:09:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowcloud8/pseuds/snowcloud8
Summary: When a person is born, they are given a name and certain expectations are set for those who bear it. A man who solely bears a title worn by his family for generations, a son who rebels against his father, a girl who has been cursed by others, and a woman who thinks herself ordinary ends up in the middle of the skirmish. Like book covers, they are more than they appear.





	1. Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, 'and what is the use of a book,' thought Alice, 'without pictures or conversations?' So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her."

**Tokyo, Japan, 2035.**

If there was one thing Sarah Williams was certain of, it was that she absolutely hated flying. There was just something about it that felt unnatural. If God had wanted man to fly, he would have given him wings. Of course, the fact that she was packed into a cramped, metal ship ten thousand feet in the air, careening five hundred miles per hour over the largest expanse of ocean for fourteen hours straight certainly didn't help matters either. Thank god for pharmaceuticals.

The amount of Xanax she had in her system made her barely register the garble of the flight attendants notifying the passengers of their descent into Narita National Airport, and it had helped drown out the incessant wails of an unhappy toddler three rows behind her that had a lung capacity opera singers could only dream of. It did not, unfortunately, help her with the nausea and air pressure as the plane began to descend, her motion sickness tablets starting to wear off. Her stomach lurched as she fished around in blindly into her purse before pulling out Hubba Bubba gum tape and ripping off a piece of it with her mouth like a smoker whipping out one of his prized Camels. The old candy wasn't incredibly popular, but she'd always had a certain weakness for the classics. It didn't help much with the nausea, but the chewing helped her ears pop and put her mind at ease. She just had to keep telling herself that it would all be worth it in the end.

After feeling the nudging of her eager, middle-seat neighbor as they got up, an Asian woman in her late forties with a surgical mask over her mouth, Sarah gradually shoved back her black sleeping mask and pulled out her compact mirror and started applying her make-up. She was near the middle half of the plane, so it would be awhile before she could grab her luggage out of the overhead bins. She also didn't want to look like the walking dead when she met up with her business associates, despite that she felt like it. By most standards, people would've said she looked good for a thirty year old woman, but then it just reminded her of how plain she actually felt. That was why she had to dress to impress. So much was riding on the success of this trip. After applying her last layer of rouge lipstick, she quickly slipped into her lucky pair of black pumps and started making her way towards the front of the plane.

Her three inch heels clicked down the airport hallway as she shuffled through huddled masses towards baggage claim. While she tried to play I Spy with the baggage carousel, she grabbed a handful of her brown hair and spun it into a messy bun. If she didn't put it up now, she would just end up fiddling with it during the meeting. Bits of unruly strands curled out from her head, but in a stylish way, not in a you-just-took-two-flights-to-get-here-and-you-just-woke-up kind of way, which is what she was going for. Not long afterwards, she spotted her Vera Bradley bag and pulled it behind her. She had her Japanese to English dictionary at the ready if she needed to order some coffee, but she was too nervous to do anything but chew her gum. She was spitting out her latest piece of Hubba Bubba when she saw a familiar tint of blonde among the sea of dark hair by the terminal bay. Then Sarah felt a sudden burst of energy and allowed her growing anxieties fall away momentarily as she let out an excited squeal.

"Yoko!" Sarah called out before immediately running over to hug her friend. More than a few passerby locals gave her incredulous looks, but in that moment, she could care less about what they thought. Japanese views on public displays of affection be damned. "It's so great to see you! How are you?"

"Great! It's been so long! How have you been? How was your flight?" Yoko inquired with a bright smile.

"Which one? The one from New Haven that had layover or the one from Portland that had turbulence?"

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. The Xanax put me out for most of it, and I charged most of my travel expenses to my university as revenge for sending me out here," Sarah admitted, causing her friend to let out a soft, melodic laugh.

"Well, you never did like flying. I appreciate you coming out all this way though." Yoko shifted her handbag further up her shoulder before pointing a red, bejeweled nail in her direction. "You cut your hair."

"And you grew yours out," Sarah observed. "It looks good. I don't think I've seen it this long since I was with you for that semester abroad in Rome." After playing a few rounds of catch-up and having a couple cans of green tea from a nearby vending machine, Sarah shifted the conversation more towards the more important topic of discussion. "So who's this friend of yours again, Yoko? You mentioned that he's some sort of government official."

"Actually, he's waiting by the car."

"You mean we're not meeting him at the hotel?"

"Mr. Genya tends to do most of his meetings one-on-one on the car ride there. He says it helps get out most of the awkward small talk and usual formalities."

"Sounds like he's a straightforward kind of guy." Yoko let out a short chuckle.

"Oh yes. If there's one thing Genya-san is like, it's straightforward."

Stepping out onto the asphalt street, Sarah felt like she was in a dying era. Granted, it wasn't the apocalypse, but she could feel the world decay around her. As humanity made great strides with technology and medicine, the world seemed to crumble underneath their feet. With every new advancement, something old was lost.

This felt especially prominent in Tokyo, one of the most advanced cities in the world. Chrome buildings were covered in neon lights and advertisements and holographic projections of instructions and advertisements of cute anime characters bowing were displayed in the airport as she left the terminal. The air itself felt dirty and stagnant, coating the inside of her lungs with city air and pollution. It was not unlike London's naturally occurring smog, but it was a breathe of fresh air compared to the recycled oxygen inside the plane. It was one of the reasons why she preferred to live in one of the smaller towns outside of New Haven. It was a longer commute to her job, but anything was better than constantly smelling the rancid sea wind that came off of the east coast.

Standing in front of a black limo was a tall man in a dark business suit. His shoulder-length black hair looked juxtaposed against his near marble white skin, and his Armani suit and tie just screamed suave businessman, but that was not what caught her attention. His eyes, though dark in color, smoldered and burned with such intensity she couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. Expressionless, his gaze kept flitting back over her as if it tried to uncover all her secrets.

"[Mr. Genya-san, thank you for meeting with me]," Sarah spoke in her most clear, broken Japanese and bowed respectively. Her host repeated the gesture in kind.

"Not at all, Miss Williams. It's not often that I get a call from a fellow bibliophile."

"Oh... you speak English," Sarah failed to keep the pleasantly surprised tone out of her voice, her ears ringing in familiarity with the soft spoken language. Not just English. _Perfect_ English, with no hint of an accent.

"On occasion. I find it makes business transactions run smoother with foreign departments," he stood back and opened the limo door. "Please, ladies first." She ducked into the car, trying to make sure her pencil skirt didn't slide too far past her knees as she scooted inside. Yoko, who seemed perfectly comfortable sitting next to Genya-san, sat opposite of her, leaving her under the scrutinizing gaze of the businessman.

"Forgive me. I thought he was your translator," Sarah apologized after the young Japanese man shut the door behind them and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Yes, well, I find it is easier working with people when you can understand what they say behind your back, so it helps to use him as a proxy at times, though it is a bit fun to see their reactions when I reveal my true intentions." This man was definitely a sharp businessman, executing such a strong power move. She had met a few during her time working at Yale. Mostly teachers with tenure or board of directors that ran high up the food chain that she often found conversing with the Dean during Christmas faculty parties. She tried not to be as easily swayed as she straightened her back and tried to re-institute her confidence.

"Never let the enemy see all of your cards before you put them into play."

"Quite right," he arched an eyebrow before folding his hands in his lap. "I am told you have experience in transcribing as well as working as an archivist. Is it true you have transcribed some of the Vatican holy texts?"

"I have been known to transcribe texts for the Church, from time to time," Sarah spoke, talking like a politician with a prepared speech. "My father was an archeologist and a linguist who was fascinated by old ruins and dead languages, so I often spent a lot of my summers helping him preserve and transcribe them into data, though I'm afraid I don't quite have his talent for speaking them."

"I see, then you must share his love of ancient history."

"Oh yes. In fact, history is one of my favorite subjects. My major was in history when I was an undergrad in college before I went on to get my Masters in librarian science." Sarah looked briefly over at Yoko, who gave her a reassuring smile. "My associate says you have a book I would be interested in?"

"Yes, you see, the text is very old, and I don't want to ship it overseas if I don't have to."

"I completely understand," Sarah nodded. She often liked to say she was one of the last true librarians, a self-proclaimed expert on the old ways of bookkeeping. With the invention of the eBooks, Kindles, and other tablets, owning physical copies of books had become a thing of the past. Nowadays, most materials were only accessible electronically through the web or via digital download. Libraries, places that were originally open and vast incomes of free public knowledge for the community, had slowly grown into dusty archives that only college students, scientists, and museum curators came for research material. Not gone, but mostly forgotten.

She thought herself quite clever for learning how to program the computers to only work in Safe Mode with restricted access to certain sites, a necessary defense she found incredibly effective against those who only wished to abuse the power of a public library for a clean internet history. Of course, it had gotten her into trouble with a few of her superiors when they had to send in the IT guys and debug the computers. She was demoted to curing the stacks in the basement, setting her back in her career a couple years. That's why this trip mattered so much. It was her way of getting back into the big ticket projects for the university. It was a very big deal getting a hold of foreign and unique materials. Shy of a museum curator, it was one of the most important jobs in her field, something that would land her a teaching position with promises of tenure, should she be able to continuously bring in new revenue.

"That is why I decided to personally pick you up and bring you to my home. It's part of my private collection, and Miss Belnades informed me that it would be beneficial to both of us if you were to inspect it and potentially add it on loan to your university for transcription."

A couple of prefectures later and the car pulled to a stop in front of a Western styled house. The grandeur behind it almost matched the airs Mr. Genya gave off, foreign yet confident in its appearance.

 _Don't be intimidated, don't be intimidated..._ Sarah thought as she followed them inside the mansion and tried not to stare at its size and elegance, which already looked like it could fit five of her apartments inside. She slipped off her pumps and wedged her feet into one of the house slippers at the entrance, the white slippers contrasting greatly with her black pantyhose. She felt incredibly small as she walked through the house filled with high-rise ceilings and chandeliers, passing portraits and Gothic architecture and vases that probably belonged in museums. Still, she tried to keep a business-professional facade. Of course, that all went out the window when her host stopped and pushed open a set of mahogany doors.

A delirious, involuntary "oh my..." slipped out as she stepped into the room. The very walls of his library seemed to built from books, the spines appearing like bricks that held up the ceiling like pillars in a cathedral. _I have stepped into Nirvana..._

"Are you alright?" Mr. Genya asked with a slight note of concern.

"Sorry, just..." Sarah paused, willing herself not to faint against the bookcases right then and there. "Give me a moment alone with them." The smell of ink and parchment, the worn leather spines of hardbacks and crinkled paperbacks were archived and ordered neatly in a way that only a true librarian could appreciate. _Oh the stories they could tell,_ she almost euphorically sighed aloud before finding her subject matter a tad ironic. "Can I...?" she trailed off eagerly.

"Please," he gestured noncommittally, a faint hint of amusement in his voice as he watched her eagerly pool over the vast collections. Her finger softly traced down multiple spines of books like a harpist gently plucking the strings, recognizing the system to be organized fairly neatly before pausing at a familiar title.

"This is...! This is a first edition of Beowulf!" she retracted her hand from the delicate cover, as if she touched something holy and pure. "Where on earth did you find it?"

"I came across it during one of my business trips to London. I believe you'll find that this one is more legible to read than the recovered manuscript."

"You've _touched_ the original manuscript for Beowulf!?" she gaped. Just who was this strange man? Why had her colleague been so insistent in having her meet with him?

"You are free to browse any part of my collection, though I must ask you not to wander off."

"Oh, trust me. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," she exclaimed vehemently, all sense of her propriety completely gone. Yoko stifled a soft giggle before stepping out to take a call. Sarah had to remember to thank her in some way after this encounter.

"Hmm, we shall see..." his eyes glazed over as he gave her an enigmatic smile, but she barely gave him any thought now as she dove into the world of literature. "Wait here while I go to fetch your book. I believe you'll find the contents to be quite extraordinary." She gave him a barely registered nod before he stepped out, his light footsteps gradually falling silent in the echoed halls.

She didn't know where she could begin to start. This had to be some sort of test, an observation on which books she would choose and how. However despite the age of many of the books she had found, they had miraculously been well kept, not nary a trace of book rot. It had been so long since she had handled texts of this caliber that she had forgotten what it was like to read books that were undamaged by dog-ears and coffee stains. She almost felt like she needed to wear surgical gloves to keep the oils from her hands from somehow staining the pages.

"A man after my own heart," Sarah hummed pleasantly to herself, taking mental notes of which shelves she borrowed from before she came back with a more than satisfactory pile. Normally, she would have brought them back in a cart, as she instinctively spent a few minutes searching for one before reprimanding herself, but since this was a private collection and not a public library, it was incredibly unlikely that he had one. If he had, she would have added it to the list of Mr. Genya's many redeeming qualities. The fact that his library had impressed her, with its intricate care and finite detailing and structure that only a librarian or a hardcore archivist would know, spoke volumes about who Genya-san was as a person. The mystery around this figure continued. He already had a good looking cover. If only she could look at the pages within...

Moments went by and after sitting back in satisfaction by sampling some of Mr. Genya's private collection, as she didn't want give more attention to one novel than to others, knowing her time here was limited, she let out an exhausted breath. How long had she been left alone? She always had such a horrible grasp on time when it came to her work, but she refused to get a watch. The ticking noise was so distracting and she had gone through so many digital watches that it seemed cheaper for her in the long run to rely on others for time than to pay for a replacement. It certainly became a great way to generate conversation.

Time flies when you're having fun, as they always said, though Sarah thought it was ironic in her case, since she neither liked time nor flying. With that self-indulgent ego stroke at her clever humor, she went back to her books, though now she found herself unable to be as in-tune as she had before, now keenly aware of the silence that surrounded her.

Her mysterious host certainly was taking his time. Maybe the eccentric businessman had taken her seriously when she said she wanted to be left alone with his collected works? Now that she wasn't immersed in literature, she was suddenly aware of how quiet it was in his house. Except for that continuous soft ticking noise, which only seemed to grow louder the more she became aware of it.

She tried to focus on the rows of text, but she found herself unable to. The sound was too annoying, too distracting to her ears. Standing up from her chair, she went in search of the sound, her eyes locking onto a large grandfather clock that divided one section of bookshelves independent from the walls of book spines, but that wasn't even the strangest thing. The clock in front of her not only wasn't moving, but it had a bizarre arrangement of Roman numerals. A thirteenth hour was added at the top, awkwardly shifting the equal balance of numbers and halves on the clock.

 _So if this isn't the source of the ticking, then where is that noise coming from?_ she thought before turning to what she thought was a highly unusual sight. A wild rabbit was huddled near one of the bookcases. Its ears twitched to the side before flashing its cotton tail at her and darting off behind the bookcase. There was that incessant ticking sound again. Following it, curious as to why a rabbit would be in a mansion, it then sat up on its hind legs, revealing that it was wearing a blue waistcoat and donned a small, rabbit-sized pocket watch that it swayed back and forth. The ticking began to grow louder and slower, almost as if she were inside the mechanism of a dying clock. Then on the final tick-tock, she froze and then popped out of existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do a freak ton of research for this story, both in game history and real life history. All I gotta say is the Middle Ages are more @#$#ed up than I realized and Castlevania's continuity is all over the freaking place! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and please support your local libraries! (They are more awesome than you know)


	2. The Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "She took a step further in — then two or three steps, always expecting to feel woodwork against the tips of her fingers. But she could not feel it. This must be a simply enormous wardrobe! thought Lucy, going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make room for her. Then she noticed that there was something crunching under her feet. I wonder is that more mothballs? she thought, stooping down to feel it with her hand. But instead of feeling the hard, smooth wood of the floor of the wardrobe, she felt something soft and powdery and extremely cold. 'This is very queer,' she said, and went on a step or two further. Next moment she found that what was rubbing against her face and hands was no longer soft fur but something hard and rough and even prickly. 'Why, it is just like branches of trees!' exclaimed Lucy. And then she saw that there was a light ahead of her; not a few inches away where the back of the wardrobe ought to have been, but a long way off. Something cold and soft was falling on her. A moment later she found that she was standing in the middle of a wood at night-time with snow under her feet and snowflakes falling through the air."

**Wallachia, 1476.**

Snow fell softly around her in what almost felt like a surreal dream when Sarah came around. Flecks of it lined around her hair and eyelashes like a crown as she felt the pressure on her chest lessen and gradually leave her. She was frozen literally and figuratively speaking, standing in the middle of a forest filled with trees nearly stripped of their leaves. It was like a strong, numbing haze that had come over her was now dissipating, like a holy man exorcising a demon.

Puffs of her breathe could be seen in front of her face as her hands unconsciously moved up her upper arms. She was starting to feel the cold now. Gradually, Sarah found her thoughts and began to undo her black and yellow paisley scarf wrapped around her neck and instead draped it around her like a shawl. The material was light and covered only the small swoop of her shoulders, but it was better than nothing.

The area was unusually quiet, the only sound coming from her soft footfalls over the frozen earth as she started walking. The ground was cold and hard, flecks of frost having frozen to the clumps of scraggly crabgrass that jutted outside of the beaten path. For some reason, she was wearing her pair of lucky, black pumps again. Hadn't she taken them off?

 _This must be a dream. I must still be on the plane,_ she thought to herself. _Either that, or I fell asleep in the library from jet-lag._ It was the only explanation she could come up with. It explained why she felt so tired and her mind was so hazy, and why she felt like she had been walking for hours down a long dark tunnel when she had only taken a few steps. The bite of the cold was the only thing that kept her going, motivating her to seek warmth and shelter elsewhere rather than stand out in the middle of woods shivering like a lunatic. Fortunately, the old north wind wasn't blowing and her persistence eventually paid off.

At the end of the dirt road stood a small village on the outer edge of the forest clearing, with torch burning lamposts in place of lightbulbs illuminating parts of the village. A couple of horses that were hitched to a post tossed their manes and snorted white mist at her as she passed, but other than that, it was fairly quiet. Then again, that made sense, since it appeared close to sundown.

Feeling the chill starting to seep into her bones, Sarah searched for some place she could warm herself until she discovered some sort of bar or tavern with some sort of illegible writing sprawled on the outside. The inside of the building was hardly any warmer than the outside, the only place that radiated enough heat being the hearth that stood in the center of the lobby, but it was better than the alternative.

Some of the locals were already gathered around it for warmth, sitting in a couple of chairs that were pulled up in front of the kindling cinders. Frankly she couldn't blame them. Almost immediately, she began warming herself in front of the hearth, stepping in a bit of ash that had fallen out of the fireplace.

"Wow, this place really needs to turn on the AC," Sarah spoke aloud with a chuckle. While she tried to regain the feeling back into her hands, she observed that not only were the people dressed in olden time clothing and frocks, but that they were all staring at her.

What was this? A Renaissance fair?

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get in your way," Sarah apologized, thinking she was being rude by standing in front of the open fire. "It's just that it's really cold outside, and I have absolutely no idea where I am. I can scoot over and make some more room, if that helps." The group however made no changes in their behavior. If anything, they seemed to regard her with a fascinated curiosity, especially the men who ogled her with pleased expressions.

"Well, now the party can really begin," one man declared enthusiastically, holding out his ale as one of the women poured him a drink while the other women regarded her with contempt as they tried regain the attention of their men.

"Maria must have brought in a new refugee. Can't even catch them with the proper attire," one of the women whispered, not even bothering to hide her disdain as she wrapped her arms around her man's neck.

"Absolutely shameless," said another and then she giggled behind her hand, causing Sarah to give them a perplexed look.

"Now, now, we shouldn't turn a blind eye to those in need," interjected one of the younger men, who stood up and clapped his meaty hands around her shoulders. "I mean, she only wants to warm herself up."

"Yeah, love, come 'ere. I know a way to keep you warm," another offered his lap suggestively as he gave her an ugly smirk and shared a laugh with his companions.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not that kind of girl," Sarah frowned curtly and motioned to leave, sensing she was no longer in good company, before she found her path blocked by one of the drunk buffoons.

"Sure ya are. You have to be, wearing such funny clothes, walking into a place like this. I mean, you're practically naked." _Said the man wearing a codpiece,_ Sarah thought snidely to herself.

"You don't have to be shy, love. We can have a drink first," her gentleman caller said kindly. Now that she got a better look at him, his face appeared a bit flushed in color and his eyes were dilated and glazed over.

"Look, I just came in for the fire-" Sarah took his hands and forcefully nudged them off her shoulders. "-and you're drunk, so excuse me if I don't want to be having sex with a gross, wasted stranger I just met."

"Come on. Don't be so coy. You can earn your room and board for tonight."

"What are you talking about-?"

She leaned up against the wall which gave away, opening up to a room behind her. A mixed series of moans and grunts could be heard in rhythm with the creaking and rocking of the wooden bed-frame, creating an almost coital chorus. The man was grinding close and fast against the woman and other than her breast, which were all laid out for the world to see, the dress hid enough, but it was blatantly obvious what they were doing. Sarah felt a rush of shame and embarrassment flood into her cheeks before being followed by cold reality inducing nausea, now aware of what establishment she had naively she entered. She wanted to look away, but she found herself unable to. It was like watching a bad car-wreck: it horrified her and it came out of nowhere.

"Oi! Piss off, unless you want to join her for a ride," the man inside the room barked harshly before letting out a dark, sardonic laugh before the girl he was riding swatted the left side of his breast.

"If you want another go with her, you'll have to pay me an extra ten coins," the girl on the bed offered.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt!" Sarah shouted after managing to find her voice again and averted her eyes, her voice squeaking a bit more than she'd liked and slamming the door harder than was necessary. She was all for historical accuracy, but this was a bit much, even for her.

"Now, where were we?" her capture purred, leaning in close as he ran his hand down her hip before Sarah quickly slapped his hand away.

"I'm _not_ a hooker!"

"What's a 'hooker'?"

"...Seriously?" Sarah deadpanned, confounded by his question before she began shifting gears. "Okay, I get it. Congratulations. You are a very method actor. Gold stars for you. Now back off and quit it with sexual harassment or I'll call the police." But he just kept moving closer, his movements getting more controlling and forceful. She didn't think he was this strong, as inebriated as he was. "Stop it! I'm not a prostitute!" Suddenly, muscle memory and fight-or-flight response kicked in as she abruptly jerked her head forward, crashing her forehead into his assailant. The man let out a grunt as the world was suddenly filled with stars.

 _No one wins in a headbutt..._ Sarah groaned but forced herself to move forward towards the exit before she felt a strong hand clench around her wrist.

"Ugh... You-! You _bitch!_ " Before she let him regain any of his lost ground, she reached into her purse and clenched her fist around her mace key-chain and clumsily sprayed it into her attacker's eyes and swiftly kicked him in the groin for good measure. Most of it missed, since she hadn't bothered to aim properly, but she guessed it had been successful due to the amount of swearing and cries of anguish she heard behind her as she sprinted for the door. Rather than run in the direction she had come, she took off in the opposite direction, running straight through town. The cold air burned in her lungs, grating the inside of her chest like she had swallowed broken glass, but she pushed herself to keep moving forward, no matter how much her body screamed at her to stop. She felt especially motivated to run when her worst fear came true when the sounds of fast distant footfalls were trudging up behind her.

What was wrong with these people?! What the heck was going on!? If this was supposed to be some sort of event or reenactment, she didn't want to be a participant!

"Get back here, you dirty whore!" her attacker yelled, running next his friends like a hungry pack of wolves hunting for their prey.

"I'm telling you, I'm not a prostitute!" Sarah called back. After constantly lifting heavy work material as an archivist and having to run materials constantly up towards patrons upon request, she was hardly an inexperienced lightweight, but that didn't mean she was ready to take on a fully grown man, especially in three inch heels.

In the distance stood a tall cloaked figure. Thinking he was one of her attacker's friends that had somehow cut her off, she only increased her speed and let out a harsh battle cry as she charged forward and ducked low, prepared to elbow her opponent in the gut like a line-backer. Misjudging the distance, her opponent swiftly sidestepped her attack with ease, causing her to shoot right past him and fall to the ground, the inertia knocking her off-balance. She let out a sharp hiss in pain, aware that her pantyhose now had a long run in it along with more than a few holes caused by scraped knees. She couldn't dwell on this fact long when she heard the footsteps behind her come to a halt.

"Stand aside," one of the thugs ordered the tall blonde stranger. The figure next to her did nothing. "What? Are you stupid or do you just have worms in your ears? I said 'stand aside.'"

"You ran into me. I have no quarrel with you," the stranger's voice was cold yet soft spoken. "However, I don't think this young lady wishes for your company."

"That whore assaulted my friend and insulted his good name in public! She deserves what's coming!"

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a hooker?!" Sarah shouted, hiding behind the stranger's black and gold trench-coat.

"And now thanks to that bitch, my friend's gone blind due to her throwing a magic potion into his eyes! You're going to pay-!" The black sheath of a long-sword could now be seen shimmering underneath his cloak, though Sarah could not recall having seen him draw it.

"Move no further," the strange man voiced with cool authority that had an underlining and dangerously threatening aura in his tone. The group stepped back fearfully before turning to run.

"You're lucky you had your demon familiar to protect you, you witch whore!"

"Do you insult everyone who dresses differently than you?" Sarah spat venomously towards him and was about to say more but thought better of it. The mysterious stranger probably wouldn't protect her a second time. "Sorry about that. Must be something in the water around here." But when she turned around, he was gone. Now she knew she had to be dreaming. No way a man would just up and disappear a second later, and there was no way someone so beautiful could exist either. He must have been an angel, her guardian angel.

Sarah shivered, unsure if it was from the cold or fear, as she weighed her options as the rest of her dream began to unfold. Either she could stay here and try not to raped by strangers or she could go get lost in the woods, freeze to death, and be eaten by wild animals, not specifically in that order.

 _I think I have a better chance with the wild animals_ , she thought as she scurried into the underbrush and started walking. Ten minutes in and the chill began beating into her bones now that the sun was almost down, her teeth chattering erratically with her shivers. Twenty minutes in and she was starting to go numb once more, the first stages of frostbite starting to show on her pink tinted skin. She needed to find shelter or make a fire, but she didn't know how to do either of those things.

After convincing herself to walk just a couple yards more through the forest a few more times than she would care to admit, an old barn or stable of some sort was coming up in the wood. A shamble of what it once was, it appeared abandoned with snow covered spots on the ground where the roof had failed to hold, along with bits of dried straw that was scattered across the ground from being dragged and thrown into bales and piles for animals to eat. Thinking it was her best option, Sarah settled into a bile of hay that was farthest from the dampness of the snow. Barely able to feel the straw brush against her fingertips as she dug a nest for her to hide in and sleep, she clutched her purse and scarf tightly around her, hopeful that she would soon wake up from this strange nightmare.


	3. The Hunger Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Katniss. I already know you're good with a knife," says Haymitch.  
> "Not really. But I can hunt," I say. "With a bow and arrow."  
> "And you're good?" asks Haymitch. I have to think about it. I've been putting food on the table for four years. That's no small task. I'm not as good as my father was, but he'd had more practice. I've better aim than Gale, but I've had more practice. He's a genius with traps and snares. "I'm all right," I say.  
> "She's excellent," says Peeta. "My father buys her squirrel. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye."

There was one plus side to the entire countryside being wiped out by demons, Trevor thought, driving their covered wagon down the country road: tons of free shit. Most of the time when the night hoards were seen in the area, you were either smart enough to leave or dumb enough to stay. Judging from the condition of the barn they stumbled on, the owners had been smart enough to leave, as the state of decay was only minimal due to neglect.

"This seems like a decent enough place to rest for the night. At least the roof keeps the place somewhat dry." The horses they had purchased were nearly skin and bones, but it was all they could afford and they got the job done well enough. He would have to bale some hay that wasn't covered with mold later for them to eat later down the road.

"Shouldn't we wait until Alucard comes back with news from his scouting mission?" Sypha asked him. "What if there's a town nearby?"

"Absolutely not. Even if there is a town nearby, there's no guarantee that we'll reach them before dark or that we'll be provided shelter. Plus, the horses need rest. They've been running on almost less food than us."

Rummaging through their food stores, Trevor found the measly leftover dried goat and hardtack from Gresit, but their provisions were starting to run low. Lately, all they had been doing was eating once a day and gathering excess stores of water by melting the nearby snow that remained white in color. You could go weeks without food, but three days without water and you were done for.

"Sypha, you stay with the wagon and start a fire. I'll go and see if I can round us up some dinner. I think I have some flint stashed away somewhere..." Trevor started feeling around in his pockets when a small hiss of brought his attention to the speaker's fingertip, which was currently balancing a bright ball of fire. "...or you could do that."

Sypha gave him a parting smirk as Trevor snatched a small bowl and the last ration of hardtack and stuffed it into one of the satchels hooked onto his belt before venturing out into the woods. Of course, Dracula decided to unleash his curse upon Wallachia right in the middle of winter, the one time of the year where food was the most scarce, so Trevor would not only be competing with the night hoards, but the natural predators as well. Wolves commonly hunted near twilight and were particularly aggressive when game was scarce, and boars were almost as smart if not as deadly -Trevor had learned from his uncle that startled boars often left fatal wounds if you were the unlucky bastard to get gored by one that charged your way- so he decided setting up a perch in a nearby tree wasn't a half bad idea. Normally, he would have been concerned with whether any bears or lynxes would be roaming the territory, since they would most likely give him the most trouble, but gratefully most bears were in hibernation or were going to be, and lynxes hunt more during the day during the winter. Trevor's cautious nature still never wavered.

Crumbling up some of the hardtack he had left, Trevor sprinkled the crumbs over a large area on the ground in front of him before scampering up a tree a good couple of paces away. It was a small trail of breadcrumbs, but hopefully it would lead him to attract a few furry, woodland creatures. Perhaps if he was lucky enough, he could attract a small deer or a wild piglet. It was unfortunate that he hardly had the tools to kill them. He had broken his short sword in a duel with Alucard and had yet to getting around to replacing it, so he had to hope that his consecrated whip, a rusty pitchfork, and a handful of throwing knives would be enough.

* * *

Rustling through the underbrush, a juvenile boar charged forward in an almost chaotic, serpentine fashion, fleeing from the predator that silently stalked it. Before it knew what had happened, a long-sword swiftly stuck it through the belly and quieted the shrill, frantic squeal that slowly died in its throat. After effortlessly lifting it up and giving it a half-disgusted sniff, Alucard lowered his lips to where the pig had been impaled and drank. Crimson liquid poured down his throat, quieting his barbaric hunger that hung around him like a dark cloud that never fully passed, while he thought back to a few moments earlier.

It shouldn't have bothered him. Due to his human half, the smell of blood didn't drive him half as mad as others of his kind, the full-blooded vampires, but it was that very scent that caused him to bolt in the end. It had taken him by surprise, as did the strangely dressed woman that tried to charge into him.

Vampires were unable to be attracted to the blood of corpses -something about the blood having to be fresh was ingrained into their very nature- which was what the city of Gresit had been tainted with, so it had been a long while since Alucard had smelled fresh human blood, especially when he did not have access to nearby blood stores. Even the year's worth of blood he had used to sustain himself while he healed from the wounds dealt by his father was animal blood; in retrospect, it was probably why it took him so long to heal.

It wasn't until Alucard was moving across the countryside with his companions that he understood the enormity of what his father, Dracula, had done. Humans were not only being slaughtered, they were being starved out. For miles outside of the heavily decimated cities and villages, trails of forests either burned down or free of animals were all that remained. All of nature had been thrown off its axis because of his father's bloody crusade. Thanks to his father's violent vendetta, there was hardly been anything left in the forest to eat, save for a few birds or abandoned livestock, so his blood and food stores were fairly low, and this posed a problem to Alucard. He could survive on one without the other, but never both.

His fangs released from the pig's hide and he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief he had tucked away before placing it back into his overcoat, satisfied with the fact that he had a meal for his traveling companions and wouldn't have to drain out all of the blood before hand. He hauled it over his shoulder before his supernatural hearing picked up a nearby argument.

"...can't believe we're still clearing out this forest," complained one figure with a sharp and shrill squawk. His companion was the opposite, his voice deep, low, and gravelly.

"Master was very clear. Kill everything."

Alucard moved closer, picking up the scent of bird and dog that reeked of pestilence and human blood. Andras and his Warg wolf. Had he fed earlier, he would have smelled him coming. The whole forest reeked of his Warg army among other things.

"We could have been done four months ago, but he didn't specify what to destroy, so now we have to hunt down ever single damned rabbit in these stupid woods, at night, when they don't even come out." The bird figure sighed and urged his steed forward. "Just keep sniffing. We're sure to find something to report back with. Then we can go after the human village."

Alucard's brow furrowed at the mental images of what would happen after Andras sunk his talons into the local village and stepped out of his hiding place.

"Master Adrian!" the crow demon addressed him promptly, dismounting from his Warg. "You are looking well." Alucard kept up his cold, impassive presence as the Marquis of Hell chattered on. "Your father has been looking for you."

"I imagine that he has," Alucard replied cryptically. Probably to make sure that he stayed out of the way of interfering with his bloody crusade or changed his mind about joining it.

"I smell humans nearby," then he extended out a gaunt, skeletal talon. "Would you like to assist us in purging them?"

"No."

"Care to take them on your own then? Very well. Your father always did say you were skilled with a sword."

"No further."

"What is the meaning of this?!" Andras exclaimed, his worn and dull black feathers ruffled.

"Leave. Leave this village, and I shall spare your lives." Alucard declared and the two demons shared a confused look. "That's an order."

"We only obey Master Dracula."

"I am Dracula, and you will take my command to stand aside and I shall spare your lives," Alucard ordered, his command stern and slightly harsher than before, and drew his long sword.

"Not Dracula. I smell human in you. We do not obey humans. We eat them," the Warg growled at him before chuckling, his glowing blue fangs shining in the moonlight. "Halfing bastard."

With a flick of a wrist, the armored Warg's head slid bloodily to the ground, as if it had just fallen off by itself like a leaf from a tree branch before the body followed suit and slid to the ground. Andras frantically unsheathed his hellfire sword, summoning a bright fireball on the tip before bringing it down in one fell swoop. An afterimage of the dhampir was all that remained before reappearing behind the demon with a sword extended forward, piercing Andras's chest before slicing through him in two.

"Hrgh! Master... Adrian... why!?" were the dying words of the betrayed marquis before life faded from his eyes. Alucard gave the demon one hard, contemplative look before wiping the blood off of his sword with the handkerchief from his overcoat.

* * *

Trevor's eyes followed the slim streaks of snow right until he noticed a twitch in the underbrush. A small hare. He quieted his breathe, trying to slow his heart rate down so that he was in-sync with his prey right up until the last moment. Slowly, he lifted a throwing knife out of its holster and aimed before launching it straight through the air, landing dead center in the back of the rabbit's head. The rabbit let out a terrified shriek as it thrashed in the snow, flailing madly when Trevor dropped down from the tree to finish the job.

After about an hour and a half of sitting on a tree branch, all Trevor had to show for it were two squirrels and a rabbit, the latter that which were pinned to a nearby spruce tree -it would have been three had he not missed the last shot due to the numbness in his hands- hardly a king's feast, let alone enough for two people.

 _Three people_ , Trevor had to remind himself. Last thing he wanted to be dealing with was Dracula's spawn turning on them because he didn't have his daily blood intake. He could at least gather the bloodied snow.

He could almost hear his father's voice in his head. _Sloppy work, Trevor. You need to aim right between the eyes, and now that creature's going to suffer because of you and ruin the meat. If it had been a monster, it would have killed you where you stand._ The weapons and skills he had utilized in order to survive everyday were all he had left of his family. Every knife throw, every whip crack, were echoes of his family's memory.

"What would they think of me now, gathering blood to feed a fucking vampire?" Trevor mused aloud with a humorless 'hmph.' He pulled out the knife that impaled in the back of the rabbit's side and used it to swiftly it slice across the neck before pinning it next to his collection of squirrels to dangle and drip until they were all drained dry of blood. Then, after he was sure they were all dry, the Belmont threw them into an old sack and started walking back towards camp.

Consumed by hunger, Trevor thought eagerly about his plans for his kill. After skinning them for meat, he would try and sell the furs at the next town, maybe have enough money for a room and a decent mug of ale. Sypha would probably complain about eating squirrels, so she would get most of the rabbit. Aside from the fact that she was a woman, she was scrawny as well. She had to be younger than him by a couple of years, barely older than a child. She would need her strength, if maybe to keep the evenings quiet of her constant complaints of hunger and taking shots at his dress and mannerisms. It seemed to be the only time she wouldn't talk would be when she was eating.

"Something smells good..." Trevor's stomach growled in pleasure at the familiar smell of pork and bacon, catching a whiff of it kindled with the smell of smoke and embers. He was envious of whatever nearby traveler or household that managed to get their hands on such a bounty. It wasn't until realized that the smell had come from his own campsite and saw who was gathered around it, stoking the pig with a tree branch cleaned of its leaves, that he quickly lost his appetite and dumped the bowl of innards and blood onto a nearby tree.

"Trevor, you're back," Sypha exclaimed with joy shining in her eyes. "Look at what Adrian has brought us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comment about hunting every single rabbit was a joke my roommate and I had while back when debating on what the night hoards would be hunting, and since some of the demons were somewhat sentient enough to form coherent sentences, it made sense that they could actually have this conversation. By the way, for you Castlevania fans, yes, I know Andras appears only in Portrait of Ruin, but if the anime is going to say "screw it" to the rules of which demons it uses from which games, ones that aren't in Castlevania III: Dracula's Curse, then damn it, so can I!


End file.
